Fic: Loving the Fall (6/?)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
When Dean got home from work Wednesday afternoon, Bobby was already there. The first thing Dean saw when he walked in the front door was a pair a suitcases in the foyer. He didn’t recognize the luggage; Bobby the hunter, like the Winchesters, had always been a duffel-bag packer. And yet there they were, two proper suitcases. Seemed weird normality was worming its way into all the unguarded cracks of the ex-hunters’ lives, no matter where they lived. Because even if he’d never seen them before, Dean knew the suitcases could only belong to Bobby.
Dean felt a pulse of terror jolt through him. Fight or flight kicked in big time, and it was only stubbornness that kept Dean in place. He beat it back valiantly before he called out, “Hey! Anybody home?”
“In the kitchen!” Sam called back. Dean girded himself and headed in that direction.
Bobby, Sam, Castiel, and Zoë were all sitting at the table, each with a drink (ranging from coffee to soda). Dean might have enjoyed the moment, seeing everyone he cared about together in one room without it being some ‘end of the world’ meeting, but he couldn’t help the flicker of his eyes between Bobby and Castiel before he said, “Hey, Bobby!”
Bobby stood and wrapped the Winchester in a hug. “Good to see you, son.”
“You too… how’s civilian life been treating you?”
Bobby stepped back. “Not too bad. Course, I still sleep with a gun in easy reach and salt lining the windows.”
“Yeah, well, who doesn’t?” Dean countered easily. They did. They all did. The Harrison house still proudly wore the protective warding Dean and Cas had put there when they first moved in, before they discovered it was no longer necessary. What with the Christmas decorations all over the place, it looked like a weird meeting of Christian and pagan.
“Well, what did I miss?” Dean asked as he moved into the kitchen, heading for the fridge and a beer. His eyes skittered to Cas, moved quickly away, then settled on anyone but the former angel.
“Not much, just catching up,” Sam replied.
“And getting to know this lovely young lady,” Bobby said with a gesture toward Zoë.
“I shouldn’t have been worried,” Zoë said with an easy smile, “Bobby’s a real doll.”
“Don’t be fooled, he’s hitting on you,” Dean replied, and when Zoë glanced at him, Dean mouthed ‘teddy bear’.
“Might be if I didn’t have to compete with this,” Bobby jerked his thumb at Sam. “Actually, I was just saying how you boys sure have done well for yourselves.”
Dean looked at Cas before he could help it. Castiel was watching him, like he always was. Dean’s eyes immediately went elsewhere. He hoped to hell he wasn’t blushing as he cleared his throat. “Yeah… who would have thought Sam would find a chick who’d put up with this sorry lot moving into her house?”
Dean was getting some ‘disapproving Sammy’ vibes, but Dean just scowled at him. He’d told Sam and Zoë how he and Cas were going to cool it until Dean told Bobby about their relationship. Sam was all sad puppy about it, as if Dean should open with ‘Hi, Bobby, been a while, so apparently I’m a little bit gay, and by the way, I’m with Cas now’, but Zoë just nodded quietly and stayed out of their business. Dean knew there was a reason he liked her.
“Dean makes it sounds like it was a hardship,” Zoë interjected. “It’s been anything but.” When she looked toward Sam, he reached out and squeezed her hand. It just might make Dean vomit.
“Well, this just goes to show how bad I am at this whole civilian thing,” Bobby hedged, “because I forgot completely about presents until I walked in and saw those things under your tree.”
Yeah, that traditional awkwardness that the brothers had balked against so mightily. At least they weren’t the only ones.
Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Bobby. You can share your one measly present with us and call it even. Actually, we would have forgotten about that, too, if Zoë had let us.”
Zoë threw up her hands. “I’m sorry for being so weirdly normal in this group, but someone has to do it.”
Sam reached out and gave her a one-armed hug, “Ah, honey, we love it.”
“Sam does, in any case,” Dean quipped and took a swallow of beer.
“Actually,” Sam perked up, “I was thinking Zoë and I could go pick up something for dinner from Hildegard’s. Any objections?”
Bobby held up his hands. “This is your territory, I’ll trust you to know what’s good around here.”
“Don’t forget curly fries,” Castiel said.
Sam smirked. “I won’t.” Dean was just opening his mouth to speak when Sam cut him off, “We won’t forget the pie, either. Let’s go, Zo.”
In no time at all, Dean, Castiel, and Bobby were left alone in the house… and only then did it occur to Dean that that might have been the intention the entire time. Dean would have to remember to let Sam know what a dickwad he was when he got back.
“So…” Bobby started, then flagged.
“Yeah…”
Not only did former hunters suck at Christmas, they sucked at regular conversation. Dean yearned for someone to start a sentence with ‘I think I’ve found something on whatever’s been killing people in town’, which was really so many levels of fucked up.
Thankfully, Bobby came up with something better to say. “Sam seems happy.”
Dean moved to the table and briefly faced a dilemma of which chair to choose. If he picked the one across from Bobby, he’d be sitting with Castiel dangerously close on his left… temptation-close Dean liked to think of it. If he sat down across from Cas, he’d end up looking at him a lot. Reluctantly, Dean picked the seat across from Bobby and looked resolutely at the older hunter. “Yeah, Sam’s pretty gone for that girl.” Dean thought about the public displays of affection just moments ago at the kitchen table between the two. He would never admit it was the reason he almost smiled. “Can’t really say I’m shocked, though. Sam’s been pining for this life since he could talk.” If one thought about it, it was just sad it had taken him this long and literally an act of God to finally get it.
Bobby nodded. “Well, good for him.” He turned to look at Castiel. “What about you?”
Dean choked on his beer, but Castiel just calmly lifted his eyebrows. “What about me?”
“Heard you fell… means you’re human now, right?”
Castiel nodded. “That’s right.”
“Bet that’s been a bitch.”
Castiel smirked. “At times, yes. I was ill several months ago. That was… unpleasant.”
Fucking terrifying would have been Dean’s choice of words. It had been the first time Castiel got sick. Dean had been stuck working overtime at the garage after some pimply-faced kid Tony hired just stopped showing up, leaving them suddenly short-handed. Dean would come home late and find Cas already in bed and didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He’d leave early in the morning with Cas still asleep. Dean didn’t really think about it much until the second day, when Sam mentioned (when Dean came home near midnight) not seeing Castiel since the day before yesterday. Dean hauled ass up the stairs and found Castiel in bed, like before. He reached to rouse the guy and found him burning with fever. Dean cursed and dragged Cas out of bed and into the bathroom, standing fully clothed with him under the shower when he turned on the water. Cas was barely conscious, even for having been pulled to his feet and manhandled across the bedroom, but the ex-angel came to abruptly and struggled with hoarse cries when the cold water hit his overheated skin. Dean restrained him, held him under the spray until he didn’t feel like a living furnace, hauled him back to bed, put him in a dry shirt, forced him to take some medicine, and asked with all the force of his fear making him sound angry why he hadn’t mentioned feeling sick. Castiel had sleepily replied that he didn’t realize that’s what had been wrong with him.
Of course, Dean couldn’t tell Bobby that. It would give away too much.
“Damn, well… I know you got kicked out of the cloud club on our account, so I suppose thanks are in order. Shame you got punished because you had the balls to help us.”
Dean only realized he’d been watching Castiel because he saw when the former angel looked his way. Dean immediately dropped his eyes to the beer can in his hand.
“Your condolences are appreciated, but unnecessary. Aside from a few unpleasant situations that were ‘a bitch’, I have enjoyed being one of you.”
Dean had to fight to hold back a grin. He knew he had a hell of a lot to do with that, and fuck if he wasn’t proud about it. He figured a former angel giving human existence a thumb’s up said something pretty awesome about how good Dean was in the sack. After all, Castiel had known Heaven.
Not that Dean could tell Bobby any of that.
“Really? Well, good. More power to you,” Bobby lifted his drink like he was making a toast. “How ‘bout that, Dean? Angel boy likes it.” When Dean glanced up, Bobby was giving him a look.
“Yeah,” Dean coughed, “Cas is really getting the hang of life on planet Earth.” His eyes went back to his beer, because that was the safest place to focus his gaze.
“Have things been weird?”
Dean looked up, panicked. “Weird? What do you mean?”
“You know, with Zoë.”
Dean tried not to squeak. “Ummm…”
“Sam talks a good game about how she’s okay with the whole hunter thing… she mean that, or is this something that’ll kick Sam in the balls when he least expects it?”
Oh, that. “Oh yeah… she’s totally cool with that.”
“Zoë is an extremely accepting person,” Castiel added, and Dean cut him a look. Accepting? Way to pick the biggest pro-gay word possible. Cas must have sensed Dean’s gaze, because he glanced over at him, and Dean gave him a ‘what the hell, man’ face. Castiel frowned, perplexed, with a ‘what?’ tilt of his head.
Bobby snorted. “Well, nice to see that hasn’t changed.”
Dean and Cas looked toward Bobby. “What?” they asked in tandem.
“That… you two talking in code with looks.”
Dean was up and out of his seat in a flash. “Sam and Zoë show you where you’ll be sleeping?”
“Not yet… kitchen’s about as far as we got soon as I came through the door.”
“Well, come on, I’ll show you where you can stash your shit. There’s a bed set up for you in the library… so that should be just like home, full of books.”
“Even some books you will find familiar,” Castiel added helpfully, “Sam has been amassing his own collection of reference material.” Almost like he couldn’t help himself, doing it in spite of his best efforts to not be that person anymore.
“Figures,” Bobby grunted.
“Hunter habits die really hard,” Dean noted as they returned to the foyer area. Dean picked up one suitcase, Bobby grabbed the other, and the younger hunter led the way to the stairs, talking as he went like a tour guide. “Sam and Zoë sleep in the bedroom at the end of the hall, Cas is in the bedroom right of the stairs… and I crash on the living room couch.” Dean ignored the tight feeling in his gut before he continued, “Bathroom’s on the left, help yourself to the towels and, uh…” Dean stopped cold in his trek up the stairs. Bobby, behind him, stopped and looked at him.
“Dean?”
Dean looked down at Bobby, gripped by something almost akin to vertigo, feeling strangely adrift all of a sudden, only tenuously attached to the universe by a thread that might snap at any second. “Bobby… does this feel really, really, really weird? I mean… all of this.”
Bobby chuckled. “Not a day goes by that I don’t wish a little bit for a wendigo to hunt.”
Like a twig snapping, Dean started to laugh. Bobby’s hand found his back as the elder hunter joined him. It was sort of crazed laughter, and Dean could see Cas at the foot of the stairs watching them, confused, but it was good to have someone agree with him. Sam always wanted out of the hunting life, Cas had never known anything but the human experience Dean showed him, but Bobby… Bobby was a kindred spirit.
Dean wiped tears out of his eyes, “Oh, shit, Bobby… what the hell, man.”
“I know, kid… but you know, it gets a little easier every day. Hell, maybe before we die, we’ll actually be used to it.”
Dean glanced once at Castiel still standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching them. Some of it he was already used to. Knew he’d fight kicking and screaming if someone tried to take it from him. Bobby was busy wiping at his eyes. Dean risked sending a tiny, private smile Castiel’s way. Castiel’s face brightened just a little.
“Geez, Bobby,” Dean grunted as he resumed his trudge up the stairs, “what did you pack? Rocks?”
“Yep. I’m not good at this, Dean… didn’t know what else to pack.” Bobby made his voice sound lost.
Dean was laughing again as he led Bobby into the spare room.
****************
After only a day of making sure he didn’t indulge in any casual contact with Cas that might give them away, Dean began to realize just how much they’d been doing it of late. Without even thinking or realizing it. Downright involuntary.
Castiel had a thing with wanting to touch base with Dean… it made sense. He used to be in constant, unending contact with his brothers and sisters via angel radio. He was wired to be in touch, and since he couldn’t be connected to Dean’s mind as a replacement, he’d be attached to his skin. Dean made that concession for Cas, not even realizing how genuinely it had become part of them until it was off-limits. Dean missed the skate of fingers along the back of his neck at the kitchen table, the brush of a hand against the small of his back in the hallway, the ghost of his body heat when they stood too close while they discussed mundane shit like the grocery list.
What surprised Dean, though, was that he couldn’t count how many times he had to tell himself not to reach out and trace the back of Castiel’s hand, or card his fingers through the curl of hair at the nape of his neck, or give him a bump with a hip that said ‘just checking that you’re still there’ and Castiel’s answering shoulder-nudge that said ‘I’m always here’. He was really shocked that he, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester, had gotten so touchy.
But deprivation only drove home the point that he, in fact, had.
By Thursday night, Dean felt like he was going through withdrawal. He couldn’t look at Cas without wanting the texture of his skin and the warmth of his body heat. It was truly pathetic.
And what was worse, Sam picked up on it without Dean saying one damn word.
“Dude… don’t do that.”
The brothers were in the kitchen gathering up popcorn and drinks while Bobby, Zoë, and Castiel were waiting in the living room to start a movie. Tonight’s film: It’s a Wonderful Life… Bobby’s choice. Who knew? Dean had to remind himself all the time that Bobby wasn’t born to hunting like Sam and Dean were; there was a time when Bobby had been a real civilian.
“Don’t do what?” Dean snarled back at his brother. He hadn’t been in a very good mood lately. He knew he was being cranky, but it wasn’t exactly something he could just decide to stop doing. Sam’s ‘you’re about to hear a lecture’ tone didn’t help matters.
“Don’t start over-thinking your and Cas’s touching thing.”
Dean eyes jerked up to Sam, narrowed and suspicious. He was seconds away from asking Sam how the fuck he’d known.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, man… I can see that you want to just go touch him. Not even ravish him, though I’m sure you do, but just touch.” To make his point, Sam reached over and closed his hand over Dean’s forearm. And yes, it was that, that exactly. That kind of touch. Dean glowered and pulled his arm away from Sam. It was weird with anyone but Cas. Sam was his brother and it shouldn’t be, but it still felt off-center somehow. Long ago defined as something not to do. Not fit for two manly hunters like the Winchesters.
So yeah, Sam was right and he knew it. Somehow, that made things worse.
“Way to be a fucking pansy, Winchester,” Dean grumbled to himself.
“Jesus, Dean… stop. Look, I figured it out months ago.”
“What’s that, Einstein?”
Sam turned to face Dean squarely. “That’s who you are, who you’ve always been, but no one’s ever let you be like that. Dad wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely kind of guy, and I guess I’ve never been either, but that’s you.”
Indignation was making Dean clench his jaw. “You calling me touchy-feely, bitch?”
“God, you’re incorrigible. I’m not talking about in touch with your feelings, because god knows that is not you. I mean tactile.” Sam gave his older brother a compassionate look that normally ended in ridicule for being an oversized girl. “Look, you finally meet someone who has no preconceived notions about what touching should and shouldn’t be. I think that’s great. And you know what?” Sam stepped closer and lowered his voice, “Cas likes it, too. So don’t do what you usually do.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“Get all macho and not give yourself what you want. Because Castiel hasn’t done anything wrong, so don’t punish him because you’re having some kind of crisis.”
Dean glowered darkly.
“You know,” Sam began testily, “you could just go touch him if you’d tell Bobby…”
“I’m working on it, so back off, princess,” Dean snapped.
Sam sighed, long-suffering like he had the most taxing brother on the face of the planet. Dean snatched up the popcorn bowl, two drinks, and stormed off to the living room…
… where Castiel was sitting on the couch, the one they typically shared on movie nights, and Dean knew he’d have to find somewhere else to sit or he’d not be paying attention and do something to give them away.
Dean sighed. He was really starting to hate Christmas.
Next
When Dean got home from work Wednesday afternoon, Bobby was already there. The first thing Dean saw when he walked in the front door was a pair a suitcases in the foyer. He didn’t recognize the luggage; Bobby the hunter, like the Winchesters, had always been a duffel-bag packer. And yet there they were, two proper suitcases. Seemed weird normality was worming its way into all the unguarded cracks of the ex-hunters’ lives, no matter where they lived. Because even if he’d never seen them before, Dean knew the suitcases could only belong to Bobby.
Dean felt a pulse of terror jolt through him. Fight or flight kicked in big time, and it was only stubbornness that kept Dean in place. He beat it back valiantly before he called out, “Hey! Anybody home?”
“In the kitchen!” Sam called back. Dean girded himself and headed in that direction.
Bobby, Sam, Castiel, and Zoë were all sitting at the table, each with a drink (ranging from coffee to soda). Dean might have enjoyed the moment, seeing everyone he cared about together in one room without it being some ‘end of the world’ meeting, but he couldn’t help the flicker of his eyes between Bobby and Castiel before he said, “Hey, Bobby!”
Bobby stood and wrapped the Winchester in a hug. “Good to see you, son.”
“You too… how’s civilian life been treating you?”
Bobby stepped back. “Not too bad. Course, I still sleep with a gun in easy reach and salt lining the windows.”
“Yeah, well, who doesn’t?” Dean countered easily. They did. They all did. The Harrison house still proudly wore the protective warding Dean and Cas had put there when they first moved in, before they discovered it was no longer necessary. What with the Christmas decorations all over the place, it looked like a weird meeting of Christian and pagan.
“Well, what did I miss?” Dean asked as he moved into the kitchen, heading for the fridge and a beer. His eyes skittered to Cas, moved quickly away, then settled on anyone but the former angel.
“Not much, just catching up,” Sam replied.
“And getting to know this lovely young lady,” Bobby said with a gesture toward Zoë.
“I shouldn’t have been worried,” Zoë said with an easy smile, “Bobby’s a real doll.”
“Don’t be fooled, he’s hitting on you,” Dean replied, and when Zoë glanced at him, Dean mouthed ‘teddy bear’.
“Might be if I didn’t have to compete with this,” Bobby jerked his thumb at Sam. “Actually, I was just saying how you boys sure have done well for yourselves.”
Dean looked at Cas before he could help it. Castiel was watching him, like he always was. Dean’s eyes immediately went elsewhere. He hoped to hell he wasn’t blushing as he cleared his throat. “Yeah… who would have thought Sam would find a chick who’d put up with this sorry lot moving into her house?”
Dean was getting some ‘disapproving Sammy’ vibes, but Dean just scowled at him. He’d told Sam and Zoë how he and Cas were going to cool it until Dean told Bobby about their relationship. Sam was all sad puppy about it, as if Dean should open with ‘Hi, Bobby, been a while, so apparently I’m a little bit gay, and by the way, I’m with Cas now’, but Zoë just nodded quietly and stayed out of their business. Dean knew there was a reason he liked her.
“Dean makes it sounds like it was a hardship,” Zoë interjected. “It’s been anything but.” When she looked toward Sam, he reached out and squeezed her hand. It just might make Dean vomit.
“Well, this just goes to show how bad I am at this whole civilian thing,” Bobby hedged, “because I forgot completely about presents until I walked in and saw those things under your tree.”
Yeah, that traditional awkwardness that the brothers had balked against so mightily. At least they weren’t the only ones.
Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Bobby. You can share your one measly present with us and call it even. Actually, we would have forgotten about that, too, if Zoë had let us.”
Zoë threw up her hands. “I’m sorry for being so weirdly normal in this group, but someone has to do it.”
Sam reached out and gave her a one-armed hug, “Ah, honey, we love it.”
“Sam does, in any case,” Dean quipped and took a swallow of beer.
“Actually,” Sam perked up, “I was thinking Zoë and I could go pick up something for dinner from Hildegard’s. Any objections?”
Bobby held up his hands. “This is your territory, I’ll trust you to know what’s good around here.”
“Don’t forget curly fries,” Castiel said.
Sam smirked. “I won’t.” Dean was just opening his mouth to speak when Sam cut him off, “We won’t forget the pie, either. Let’s go, Zo.”
In no time at all, Dean, Castiel, and Bobby were left alone in the house… and only then did it occur to Dean that that might have been the intention the entire time. Dean would have to remember to let Sam know what a dickwad he was when he got back.
“So…” Bobby started, then flagged.
“Yeah…”
Not only did former hunters suck at Christmas, they sucked at regular conversation. Dean yearned for someone to start a sentence with ‘I think I’ve found something on whatever’s been killing people in town’, which was really so many levels of fucked up.
Thankfully, Bobby came up with something better to say. “Sam seems happy.”
Dean moved to the table and briefly faced a dilemma of which chair to choose. If he picked the one across from Bobby, he’d be sitting with Castiel dangerously close on his left… temptation-close Dean liked to think of it. If he sat down across from Cas, he’d end up looking at him a lot. Reluctantly, Dean picked the seat across from Bobby and looked resolutely at the older hunter. “Yeah, Sam’s pretty gone for that girl.” Dean thought about the public displays of affection just moments ago at the kitchen table between the two. He would never admit it was the reason he almost smiled. “Can’t really say I’m shocked, though. Sam’s been pining for this life since he could talk.” If one thought about it, it was just sad it had taken him this long and literally an act of God to finally get it.
Bobby nodded. “Well, good for him.” He turned to look at Castiel. “What about you?”
Dean choked on his beer, but Castiel just calmly lifted his eyebrows. “What about me?”
“Heard you fell… means you’re human now, right?”
Castiel nodded. “That’s right.”
“Bet that’s been a bitch.”
Castiel smirked. “At times, yes. I was ill several months ago. That was… unpleasant.”
Fucking terrifying would have been Dean’s choice of words. It had been the first time Castiel got sick. Dean had been stuck working overtime at the garage after some pimply-faced kid Tony hired just stopped showing up, leaving them suddenly short-handed. Dean would come home late and find Cas already in bed and didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He’d leave early in the morning with Cas still asleep. Dean didn’t really think about it much until the second day, when Sam mentioned (when Dean came home near midnight) not seeing Castiel since the day before yesterday. Dean hauled ass up the stairs and found Castiel in bed, like before. He reached to rouse the guy and found him burning with fever. Dean cursed and dragged Cas out of bed and into the bathroom, standing fully clothed with him under the shower when he turned on the water. Cas was barely conscious, even for having been pulled to his feet and manhandled across the bedroom, but the ex-angel came to abruptly and struggled with hoarse cries when the cold water hit his overheated skin. Dean restrained him, held him under the spray until he didn’t feel like a living furnace, hauled him back to bed, put him in a dry shirt, forced him to take some medicine, and asked with all the force of his fear making him sound angry why he hadn’t mentioned feeling sick. Castiel had sleepily replied that he didn’t realize that’s what had been wrong with him.
Of course, Dean couldn’t tell Bobby that. It would give away too much.
“Damn, well… I know you got kicked out of the cloud club on our account, so I suppose thanks are in order. Shame you got punished because you had the balls to help us.”
Dean only realized he’d been watching Castiel because he saw when the former angel looked his way. Dean immediately dropped his eyes to the beer can in his hand.
“Your condolences are appreciated, but unnecessary. Aside from a few unpleasant situations that were ‘a bitch’, I have enjoyed being one of you.”
Dean had to fight to hold back a grin. He knew he had a hell of a lot to do with that, and fuck if he wasn’t proud about it. He figured a former angel giving human existence a thumb’s up said something pretty awesome about how good Dean was in the sack. After all, Castiel had known Heaven.
Not that Dean could tell Bobby any of that.
“Really? Well, good. More power to you,” Bobby lifted his drink like he was making a toast. “How ‘bout that, Dean? Angel boy likes it.” When Dean glanced up, Bobby was giving him a look.
“Yeah,” Dean coughed, “Cas is really getting the hang of life on planet Earth.” His eyes went back to his beer, because that was the safest place to focus his gaze.
“Have things been weird?”
Dean looked up, panicked. “Weird? What do you mean?”
“You know, with Zoë.”
Dean tried not to squeak. “Ummm…”
“Sam talks a good game about how she’s okay with the whole hunter thing… she mean that, or is this something that’ll kick Sam in the balls when he least expects it?”
Oh, that. “Oh yeah… she’s totally cool with that.”
“Zoë is an extremely accepting person,” Castiel added, and Dean cut him a look. Accepting? Way to pick the biggest pro-gay word possible. Cas must have sensed Dean’s gaze, because he glanced over at him, and Dean gave him a ‘what the hell, man’ face. Castiel frowned, perplexed, with a ‘what?’ tilt of his head.
Bobby snorted. “Well, nice to see that hasn’t changed.”
Dean and Cas looked toward Bobby. “What?” they asked in tandem.
“That… you two talking in code with looks.”
Dean was up and out of his seat in a flash. “Sam and Zoë show you where you’ll be sleeping?”
“Not yet… kitchen’s about as far as we got soon as I came through the door.”
“Well, come on, I’ll show you where you can stash your shit. There’s a bed set up for you in the library… so that should be just like home, full of books.”
“Even some books you will find familiar,” Castiel added helpfully, “Sam has been amassing his own collection of reference material.” Almost like he couldn’t help himself, doing it in spite of his best efforts to not be that person anymore.
“Figures,” Bobby grunted.
“Hunter habits die really hard,” Dean noted as they returned to the foyer area. Dean picked up one suitcase, Bobby grabbed the other, and the younger hunter led the way to the stairs, talking as he went like a tour guide. “Sam and Zoë sleep in the bedroom at the end of the hall, Cas is in the bedroom right of the stairs… and I crash on the living room couch.” Dean ignored the tight feeling in his gut before he continued, “Bathroom’s on the left, help yourself to the towels and, uh…” Dean stopped cold in his trek up the stairs. Bobby, behind him, stopped and looked at him.
“Dean?”
Dean looked down at Bobby, gripped by something almost akin to vertigo, feeling strangely adrift all of a sudden, only tenuously attached to the universe by a thread that might snap at any second. “Bobby… does this feel really, really, really weird? I mean… all of this.”
Bobby chuckled. “Not a day goes by that I don’t wish a little bit for a wendigo to hunt.”
Like a twig snapping, Dean started to laugh. Bobby’s hand found his back as the elder hunter joined him. It was sort of crazed laughter, and Dean could see Cas at the foot of the stairs watching them, confused, but it was good to have someone agree with him. Sam always wanted out of the hunting life, Cas had never known anything but the human experience Dean showed him, but Bobby… Bobby was a kindred spirit.
Dean wiped tears out of his eyes, “Oh, shit, Bobby… what the hell, man.”
“I know, kid… but you know, it gets a little easier every day. Hell, maybe before we die, we’ll actually be used to it.”
Dean glanced once at Castiel still standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching them. Some of it he was already used to. Knew he’d fight kicking and screaming if someone tried to take it from him. Bobby was busy wiping at his eyes. Dean risked sending a tiny, private smile Castiel’s way. Castiel’s face brightened just a little.
“Geez, Bobby,” Dean grunted as he resumed his trudge up the stairs, “what did you pack? Rocks?”
“Yep. I’m not good at this, Dean… didn’t know what else to pack.” Bobby made his voice sound lost.
Dean was laughing again as he led Bobby into the spare room.
****************
After only a day of making sure he didn’t indulge in any casual contact with Cas that might give them away, Dean began to realize just how much they’d been doing it of late. Without even thinking or realizing it. Downright involuntary.
Castiel had a thing with wanting to touch base with Dean… it made sense. He used to be in constant, unending contact with his brothers and sisters via angel radio. He was wired to be in touch, and since he couldn’t be connected to Dean’s mind as a replacement, he’d be attached to his skin. Dean made that concession for Cas, not even realizing how genuinely it had become part of them until it was off-limits. Dean missed the skate of fingers along the back of his neck at the kitchen table, the brush of a hand against the small of his back in the hallway, the ghost of his body heat when they stood too close while they discussed mundane shit like the grocery list.
What surprised Dean, though, was that he couldn’t count how many times he had to tell himself not to reach out and trace the back of Castiel’s hand, or card his fingers through the curl of hair at the nape of his neck, or give him a bump with a hip that said ‘just checking that you’re still there’ and Castiel’s answering shoulder-nudge that said ‘I’m always here’. He was really shocked that he, tough-as-nails Dean Winchester, had gotten so touchy.
But deprivation only drove home the point that he, in fact, had.
By Thursday night, Dean felt like he was going through withdrawal. He couldn’t look at Cas without wanting the texture of his skin and the warmth of his body heat. It was truly pathetic.
And what was worse, Sam picked up on it without Dean saying one damn word.
“Dude… don’t do that.”
The brothers were in the kitchen gathering up popcorn and drinks while Bobby, Zoë, and Castiel were waiting in the living room to start a movie. Tonight’s film: It’s a Wonderful Life… Bobby’s choice. Who knew? Dean had to remind himself all the time that Bobby wasn’t born to hunting like Sam and Dean were; there was a time when Bobby had been a real civilian.
“Don’t do what?” Dean snarled back at his brother. He hadn’t been in a very good mood lately. He knew he was being cranky, but it wasn’t exactly something he could just decide to stop doing. Sam’s ‘you’re about to hear a lecture’ tone didn’t help matters.
“Don’t start over-thinking your and Cas’s touching thing.”
Dean eyes jerked up to Sam, narrowed and suspicious. He was seconds away from asking Sam how the fuck he’d known.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, man… I can see that you want to just go touch him. Not even ravish him, though I’m sure you do, but just touch.” To make his point, Sam reached over and closed his hand over Dean’s forearm. And yes, it was that, that exactly. That kind of touch. Dean glowered and pulled his arm away from Sam. It was weird with anyone but Cas. Sam was his brother and it shouldn’t be, but it still felt off-center somehow. Long ago defined as something not to do. Not fit for two manly hunters like the Winchesters.
So yeah, Sam was right and he knew it. Somehow, that made things worse.
“Way to be a fucking pansy, Winchester,” Dean grumbled to himself.
“Jesus, Dean… stop. Look, I figured it out months ago.”
“What’s that, Einstein?”
Sam turned to face Dean squarely. “That’s who you are, who you’ve always been, but no one’s ever let you be like that. Dad wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely kind of guy, and I guess I’ve never been either, but that’s you.”
Indignation was making Dean clench his jaw. “You calling me touchy-feely, bitch?”
“God, you’re incorrigible. I’m not talking about in touch with your feelings, because god knows that is not you. I mean tactile.” Sam gave his older brother a compassionate look that normally ended in ridicule for being an oversized girl. “Look, you finally meet someone who has no preconceived notions about what touching should and shouldn’t be. I think that’s great. And you know what?” Sam stepped closer and lowered his voice, “Cas likes it, too. So don’t do what you usually do.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“Get all macho and not give yourself what you want. Because Castiel hasn’t done anything wrong, so don’t punish him because you’re having some kind of crisis.”
Dean glowered darkly.
“You know,” Sam began testily, “you could just go touch him if you’d tell Bobby…”
“I’m working on it, so back off, princess,” Dean snapped.
Sam sighed, long-suffering like he had the most taxing brother on the face of the planet. Dean snatched up the popcorn bowl, two drinks, and stormed off to the living room…
… where Castiel was sitting on the couch, the one they typically shared on movie nights, and Dean knew he’d have to find somewhere else to sit or he’d not be paying attention and do something to give them away.
Dean sighed. He was really starting to hate Christmas.
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